Two Out of Three
by HPtwilightfanatic
Summary: Ginny Weasley urged herself to move, begged her feet to turn her around and take her out the door, hoped her arms would remove his shirt from her back and throw it on the floor at his feet. She'd said all she needed to, now she just had to go. Kiss the memory farewell and never look back. Based on the Meatloaf song of the same name. Drinny. Oneshot...? T to be safe.


_I want you  
>I need you<br>But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you  
>Now don't be sad<br>'Cause two out of three ain't bad  
>-Meatloaf<em>

"I need more than this."

"Pardon?"

He always sounded so pretentious; so proud. How had she been able to stand him for so long?

Oh right, that's how. Draco had come up behind her, lips dropping to the side of her neck in a tempting way.

"You heard me," Ginny whispered, cursing herself that it came out so breathy.

"I'm afraid I'm receiving my father's terrible hearing as I age, love. Why don't you help a man out and repeat it nice and clear."

The prick. He knew exactly what she had said. And he knew how much courage that had taken. Now he was pushing it.

Taking in a deep breath, doing her best to ignore the way that his mouth was dragging against her skin and failing miserably, she spoke. "I said, I need more than this."

"You'll have to be more specific Ginevra."

_Like hell I have to,_ Ginny thought, hearing the calm waves of anger beginning to grow under his voice, and feeling his fingers tighten on her shoulders.

"I don't love you. You know that." She stated, thanking every deity that her voice wasn't shaking.

Hands and lips leaving her, Draco strode around her to deal with his morning tea. He was still barely dressed thanks to last night's activities that had transferred over to this morning, with only his suit pants hanging low on his hips. She wore his shirt, sleeves pushed up to her elbow, as his arms were much longer than hers. Ginny was definitely beginning to represent her mother more and more as she grew older. At least in physical appearance. Molly Weasley had definitely made better decisions than her daughter was currently making.

"I wasn't actually aware of that, no," he said casually, not looking at her. No, maybe he hadn't been aware of it, but he had never let a chance to tell her he would never love her go by.

"I think you were," she turned her gaze to her own cup of tea, swirling the liquid round and round, "so I am done."

He didn't say anything, making her words sound worse as they hit a wall of silence. She knew this was the right thing to do; break it off with him. He would never love her, as he'd told her numerous times. Maybe he craved her, but he had no heart left to love her with, even if he were to try. It had been consumed during the war, by the Mark that could only just be seen on his left arm.

Not that she hadn't enjoyed her time with him. In fact, she'd enjoyed it immensely. No one could measure up to the way he touched her, the heat only his looks provided, or his intensity. But this wasn't what she wanted, she told herself again and again.

"I'm going to leave today," she left every time after their excursions, but this time, she meant never to return to his dark manor, to his bed. "I will go on being civil with you at the Ministry, if you will be civil to me. But this…relationship, is over." With every word, (and his icy eyes still on his own hands and not piercing her), she grew more confident, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"What if I told you I loved you," he finally spoke, still refusing to look at her.

With a sigh, Ginny stood, stepping forward to him. It was probably a mistake to move closer to him rather than farther away, but she did it anyway. She'd stopped listening to her conscience a long time ago, when it came to him at least.

"You don't," he flinched at her words, "You want me. Maybe even need me, as I've seen how you act when we don't…connect…on a daily basis," he'd been going out of his mind when he had come back from a trip for the Ministry once, shoving her up against the wall of his office at Malfoy Manor, "but you don't love me."

"Is that so bad?" Now he looked at her, his gaze as hard and frigid as she had expected it to be. No, she could never love someone so cold. "To want you? Need you?" With one long stride, he was nearly touching her, tilting his head down at her, keeping their gazes together.

"If they're combined without love, then yes," her blood was spiking with heat at his closeness, and she tried to calm it to no avail. If she didn't leave now, he would be the death of her.

He didn't understand what she was saying. He could, would never understand the prospect of love.

"So you're going to leave."

"Isn't that what I said?" Maybe she had not been able to calm her warming blood, but she was able to transfer the coiling heat into a striking anger.

"It is," his silver eyes gleamed, "I was just making sure."

He took a step back, allowing her breath to return into her lungs once more, and he considered her before him, his eyes raking over her entire form with interest.

"Go on then. Leave," his smirk was pronounced on his lips now, and she hated it. He was challenging her; his eyes saying _"You're going to leave me? Prove it."_

Standing there, in the middle of the kitchen at Malfoy Manor, Ginny Weasley urged herself to move, begged her feet to turn her around and take her out the door, hoped her arms would remove his shirt from her back and throw it on the floor at his feet. She'd said all she needed to, now she just had to go. Kiss the memory farewell and never look back.

But that was a lot harder to do than think.

Because no, she didn't love him. But she wanted him too, needed him too.

And she hated him for it.

Within the span of a blink, she was pressed up against him, everything at war with each other. The touches were not soft and lingering, lips not gentle and savoring. Everything was rugged, hard, rough, and fierce. She could feel his smirk against her mouth, and it made ice creep up her spine with disgust, but she didn't stop, as much as her mind and heart shouted for her to.

Her mother had always taught her that love was the most important thing in the world; familial, intimate, friendly, any sort of love.

And here she was, wrapped up in terrible knots with a man who wanted her, needed her, but would never love her.

As he'd said, was that really so bad?

*A/N: As Mrs. Gardiner in Pride and Prejudice would say, this fic "savors strongly of bitterness". It's been a long time since I wrote some Drinny, but it's just like riding a bike I guess.


End file.
